CHAPTER 25
Author: Imouni29
last update2025-12-16 21:23:36

Cold sweat dripped from Rafael’s temples, falling one by one onto the floor. The man’s breathing came in broken gasps, as if his lungs tightened every time he drew in air. Inside his chest, something pulsed. Not his heart, but a power pressing outward, gnawing from within.

Rafael grabbed the edge of the table, his fingers gripping the wood until his knuckles turned pale. His stomach churned, nausea mixed with pain that spread to his spine. Every pulse made his head throb.

“It seemed to have been too long,” Rafael thought. Too long he had restrained himself. Too long that power had been left without a target.

The door opened in a rush. Footsteps struck the floor. The figure who had faithfully accompanied him approached.

“Master!” Caesar stopped the moment he saw Rafael’s condition. The man’s face immediately changed. He hurried forward, supporting Rafael’s shoulders so the duke’s body would not fall. “Are you all right?”

Rafael brushed Caesar’s hand away with the last of his strength.
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  • CHAPTER 26

    Caesar stopped behind Rafael, understanding. He stood still, only watching how Rafael vented that power.The first roar broke out. One of the monsters leaped, the ground splitting under its impact. Then Rafael began to move. Not hurried. Not hesitant.His sword was drawn in a single breath. A blackish-red light crawled along the blade, seeping like ink into steel. As the monster nearly touched him, Rafael twisted his wrist with a small, almost lazy motion.Slash.The creature’s head separated from its body before it could scream. Black blood sprayed, warm, splashing onto Rafael’s arm. The headless body collapsed with a wet sound.Seeing one of their kind killed, the others attacked at once. Rafael stepped forward. The sword that had become his legend seemed to dance beautifully, not wildly or brutally annihilating the monsters. Yet every swing struck its mark. Every slash severed tendons, joints, or spines. The second monster was split from shoulder to waist. Next, the third lost its

  • CHAPTER 25

    Cold sweat dripped from Rafael’s temples, falling one by one onto the floor. The man’s breathing came in broken gasps, as if his lungs tightened every time he drew in air. Inside his chest, something pulsed. Not his heart, but a power pressing outward, gnawing from within.Rafael grabbed the edge of the table, his fingers gripping the wood until his knuckles turned pale. His stomach churned, nausea mixed with pain that spread to his spine. Every pulse made his head throb.“It seemed to have been too long,” Rafael thought. Too long he had restrained himself. Too long that power had been left without a target.The door opened in a rush. Footsteps struck the floor. The figure who had faithfully accompanied him approached.“Master!” Caesar stopped the moment he saw Rafael’s condition. The man’s face immediately changed. He hurried forward, supporting Rafael’s shoulders so the duke’s body would not fall. “Are you all right?”Rafael brushed Caesar’s hand away with the last of his strength.

  • CHAPTER 24

    The title Duke of Darkness did not come from a royal ceremony or empty praise, but from the blood-soaked land in the northern borders, the place where Rafael learned to live, die, and kill. At that time he was only fifteen years old, but King Tremos threw him there without hesitation.“If you want to be recognized as my blood, prove it at the border,” his father had said. There was no affection. There was no explanation. Only a cold command that could not be disobeyed at all.Rafael went, not because he obeyed, but because he knew it was the only way to survive in a palace that hated him, also as proof that he still had noble blood.He spent the next fifteen years in a way no child was ever prepared for. He chose to break through barbarian hordes until his hands felt numb, splitting open monster skulls while laughing softly, and staring into the eyes of enemy soldiers until they froze in terror. He even often looked at a sea of corpses when war broke out. Those wounds shaped him, crea

  • CHAPTER 23

    Inside the palace meeting room, the nobles and high-ranking officials sat in a tense formation. The light from the crystal chandelier sparkled above their heads, reflecting shadows on the tall stone walls. At the end of the long table made of dark mahogany wood, King Tremos sat with a grim expression.Across from him, Grand Duke Rathore Mcrelwyn, a middle-aged man with perfectly styled golden hair, stared straight at the king with an unreadable gaze. His eyes were sharp, almost piercing, and his look was full of skepticism he did not bother to hide."I still did not approve of appointing Rafael as crown prince, let alone giving the king’s throne to him," the Grand Duke finally said, his voice calm but weighty. "A leader could not simply appear from the shadows after years of disappearing, then claim the right to the throne without being tested first."The room was instantly filled with soft whispers. Some council members exchanged glances, while others lowered their heads, trying to h

  • CHAPTER 22

    Rafael stood tall before the massive mirror adorning the wall of his lavish chamber. His broad shoulders were cloaked in an outfit tailored to perfection, befitting his new title as crown prince. A sleek black suit with modern cuts hugged his frame, paired with a long crimson mantle that shimmered subtly under the golden light. The royal crest of Carlies, a gleaming gold emblem, adorned his chest, a symbol of the authority now officially his. Servants moved swiftly around him, adjusting the folds of his suit, slipping white gloves over his hands, and ensuring every detail was immaculate. Rafael, however, remained calm, unfazed by the flurry of activity. His gaze in the mirror reflected the bearing of a leader, though beneath his composed exterior lay a flicker of satisfaction he couldn’t entirely mask. It wasn’t just the restoration of his rightful title that pleased him—it was also the ruin of those who had once dismissed him. "Frederick," Rafael murmured softly, his voice laced

  • CHAPTER 21

    Three days had passed, and the devastation in Hurbret was undeniable. Small villages lay in ashes, fields were barren, and refugees filled the main roads with despair etched into their faces. The air reeked of smoke, blood, and death. Frederick stood on the balcony of his now-disheveled estate, his sharp eyes scanning the empty fields below, his jaw clenched tight.Inside the house, the chaos mirrored the destruction outside. His trusted secretary stood with his head bowed, clutching a stack of official documents. His voice trembled as he spoke, trying to deliver the news delicately.“Baron,” the secretary began softly but firmly, “I’ve just received a report from the royal envoy. The kingdom is planning a welcoming feast for the new crown prince.”Frederick froze for a moment, then slowly turned with eyes as sharp as daggers. “What?” he asked, his voice low and filled with menace.“A welcoming feast, sir,” the secretary repeated, swallowing hard before continuing. “The new crown prin

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